


Laundry + TV + Family

by slightly_ajar



Series: Domesticities [1]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Found Family, Platonic Cuddling, Reunions, Sibling Relationship, dad jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 21:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightly_ajar/pseuds/slightly_ajar
Summary: “Mac tried to keep his movements casual while the anticipation of seeing Jack, of speaking to him and getting to know that he was okay, not worn or sad or hurting buzzed like static under his skin.”Mac and Riley's mission takes them near to Jack's current location and they meet up  spend some family time together.





	Laundry + TV + Family

**Author's Note:**

> I decided that I wanted to do a series of fluffy domestic moments between the team. Little, sweet, apropos of nothing moments of domestic comfort because I love a bit of domestic fluff. I wrote this to fit in with that series but it turned out a little angstier than a fluffy story maybe should, but what’s sweet without a little sour?
> 
> If you would like to come and say hello on Tumblr I’m there as [Sky-larking](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/sky-larking)

Mac had jumped through fire that day. 

He’d taken a running leap through a wall of roaring orange flames to reach safety. The irony of having to risk a fiery, painful demise to avoid certain death at the hands of angry gun runners wasn’t lost on him. 

If Jack had been there he would have made an appropriately Bruce Willis-esque comment as he ran from the building with the bad guys trapped behind the blaze and a cloud of thick black smoke. Probably something about being ‘too hot to handle, ‘smoking the bad guys out’, or just ‘burn baby, burn!’ 

Despite the risk of incineration. Despite securing the arrest of dangerous traffickers who specialised in all things deleterious to both body and soul. Despite the danger and the adrenaline and the satisfying victory Mac’s visceral memory of that day was of the smell of laundry. 

Exfil had been pushed back until the next morning and Riley and Mac booked into a motel and went to the diner nearby for something to eat. 

Riley grinned as they made their way to their seats. She loved old school, Rock-A-Billy diners like the one they were in. She loved the checked tiles on the floor, the red vinyl seats in the booths and the jukebox that sat in the corner. Mac had always wanted to build a jukebox, the old fashioned kind with a mechanical arm that dropped records onto a turntable and lowered a needle down to play the songs with a hissing scratch. He had a vague plan of how he would do it, he and Bozer would discuss it sometimes on lazy mornings when neither of them had to go to work and there was time for a second cup of coffee as they eased into the day. 

Mac watched Riley as she carefully slid into the booth opposite him, favouring her left side. One of the gang’s members had stumbled across her while she’d been hacking security cameras in the empty office block they’d based their operation in and she’d had to fight him off. He’d come out worse, the fight had ended with him unconscious and face down on the floor, but he must have managed to get a couple of blows of his own in first. 

“I’m fine.” Riley said, noticing Mac watching her. “It’s a bruise, my ribs might be sore for a day or two, that’s it, it’s nothing to worry about.” 

Mac hummed in response, narrowing his eyes at her as she eased herself into her seat. 

“I’m fine!” Riley insisted, lowered her voice to carry more conviction as she reached out to squeeze Mac’s hands. “Really, if I thought I needed medical treatment I would tell you, I swear.” 

“Okay, but promise that you’ll tell me if anything changes, like if the pain gets worse or you start to feel breathless.” He stared at her side, trying to extrapolate the size and severity of the bruise by the stiffness of her movements. 

“I promise. You don’t need to worry.” Riley gave Mac’s hand a reassuring pat and picked up her menu. “You know,” she said, not lifting her gaze, “we’re not that far from where Jack is based right now. If we contacted him we could arrange a meet point.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Mac’s over the top of the laminated pages she was holding. 

“I know, I checked Jack’s location before we left LA.” 

They’d been able to work out where Jack was from the last message he’d sent them and Mac’s first thought when he and Riley had been given the location of their mission had been how close they would be to him. Mac had pushed the thought aside, compartmentalising it away. He didn’t know if he could focus on the op if he was dwelling the possibility of meeting with Jack and being able to see that he was okay. He didn’t know if Jack could even come and see them or if it would comprise his cover. Was seeing Jack worth the risk to his safety? Mac met Riley’s eyes and knew that she’d had the same thought. 

“I’ve set up a secure channel,” Riley said, “we could contact him on that and give him the choice, you know he’d never forgive us if he found out that we’d been this close and hadn’t told him.” 

“I want to see him too, but is it selfish to risk exposing him?” 

“I don’t want Jack exposed as much as anyone,” Riley smiled, “more than most, but I think we should give him the option, don’t you? You know we’ll never hear the end of it if we don’t.” 

They wouldn’t. Jack would be furious at not being given the choice to see them. He would argue that family is everything, worth every risk and more important than any concern about protocol. 

Mac looked out across the diner. It was full of hungry patrons and the hum and clatter of the lunchtime rush. The waitresses smiled as they took orders and brought out meals. The cook was nodding his head along with the song on the jukebox and two young boys from the family sat opposite Mac and Riley were bickering about who had stolen the other’s ketchup, who’s turn it was to sit shotgun in the car on the drive home and who was, in fact, the biggest butthead. The last point was being hotly contested with feeling and increasing volume. 

“Enough!” Their mother hissed with enough bite to silence both boys, following the command with an icy glare that reminded Mac of the look Bozer's mom used to get in her eyes when she suspected the pair of them had been using power tools. The two boys shared a cowed look of shame and quietly went back to their meals

Families. The truth was that each one was a jumble of trust, obligations, complexities and devotion. Mac was certain that although those brothers would fight, irritate and insult each other at every chance they had but if one was threatened or hurt the other would defend them without question. Nothing would matter more, not the nature of the trouble, the distance between them or any difficulty that might have arisen. They were brothers. That was everything. 

“Call him.” Mac nodded. “Let him know we’re here, we’ll think of a way to work the other stuff out.” 

  


Five hours later they walked into a laundrette across the city. Mac’s nose prickled with the smell of laundry detergent and the tang of the dryers’ hot metal as he stepped over the threshold. He automatically searched the room for threats, anomalies and alternative exits and eased the tense readiness in his body when he registered that there was no danger. The laundrette was quiet, about ten people sat on benches watching their washing, staring at their phones or looking up at the episode of Wheel of Fortune showing on the TV that had been hung high on a wall. Jack was at the far end of the room, his back to them, gazing intently into the machine opposite him like it was showing the best of John McClane. 

The worried partner who had been missing his friend fought and nearly eclipsed the trained operative in Mac who understood the importance of discretion. It was difficult not to shout Jack’s name, to call out to him over the applause of the TV audience, the rush of water filling and emptying in the machines and the _thunk-clunk_ of the dryers. Mac felt Riley flinch and knew she was fighting the same impulse. 

They walked past an older lady knitting with four needles and a young man with tired eyes and a battered paperback as they snaked their way around the machines to where Jack was waiting. Mac tried to keep his movements casual while the anticipation of seeing Jack, of speaking to him and getting to know that he was okay, not worn or sad or hurting buzzed like static under his skin. Jack could take care of himself. Jack could take care of himself and anyone else he had been assigned to protect or decided to care for but he needed a purpose to feel steady. Missions were what Jack _did_ , Mac knew, but what Jack _needed_ was to feel connected to his friends, to belong to a group of people he cared for and wanted to protect and guide, and who wanted him in return. He needed a family to feel whole. Being separated from the people he had gathered around him would take its toll on Jack and Mac worried about what exactly the distance had cost him. 

“Hey.” Riley said as they grew closer and Jack turned, his grin wide and delighted. 

“Hey!” Jack stood and pulled Riley into a hug, tucking her head under his chin as he squeezed her to him. “You both look good.” He pulled away from Riley and gestured to Mac with a hand, “I mean, as good as you can look when you’re all skinny and have that whole thing going on with the fluffy hair and all.” 

Mac stepped forward and into a quick, back slapping hug. “You look,” Mac thought Jack looked thinner than he’d been the day when he’d walked out of the War Room, leaner. He hadn’t lost weight as much as toned up. Whatever they were doing on his task force kept him physically active. His eyes were clear and free from the dark circles that grew under them when he missed sleep and he looked healthy, fit and relaxed. But Mac could see false cheer in his eyes and weariness in the line of his mouth. “You look good man, lean and mean.” 

“They keep us busy. Catching Special K is such a high priority that we’re pretty much on task and fully focused 24/7. I don’t mind thought, the sooner we find that douchebag the sooner it’s over and we can all head home.” 

Mac and Riley nodded. They didn’t ask about leads, actionable Intel or progress reports. Jack couldn’t tell them and none of the wanted to talk shop. 

“You picked a laundrette to meet in?” Mac asked, looking around them at the whirring washing machines, the fading paint on the walls and the bored patrons staring up at the quiz show on the TV. 

“Why not?” Jack shrugged. “Bad ass, hard core, super-secret agents need to wash their drawers just like everyone else.” 

Jack asked about how Mac’s cooking skills were coming along, laughing at the story of what had happened when he’d tried to make pasta from scratch. Riley told him about visiting her grandma and how she’d found out some old pictures for her to see. 

“Apparently, I have my Great Aunt Susan’s chin and my grandpa’s eyes.” 

“You should really give them back Ri, they might need them.” 

They talked about Bozer, Leanna and Matty. Jack asked after Desi and refused to be drawn on questions about her. “I’m not going to tell you anything that might give you ideas about her. You need to get to know her yourselves. I trust her to take care of all of you, that’s all you need to know from me.” 

The tension Mac had been holding in his shoulders drained away. The three of them hanging out and laughing together felt normal. Comfortable, relaxed and normal. Mac almost expected Bozer to walk in with a plate of burgers or Matty to show up with a glint in her eye and a sharp remark. 

As they talked the other people in the laundrette loaded up their clean clothes and left, the lady with the knitting tucked her needles into the ball of wool and walked out pulling her wheeled bag behind her and the young man with the paperback slumped against the wall behind him and dozed. New people arrived and settled onto the benches with their books and newspapers. Jack unloaded the wet clothes from his machine and pushed them into a dryer. 

“So,” he said with his back to Mac, the muscles in his shoulders shifting as he shoved handfuls of wet fabric into the metal drum. “Have you seen much of your old man?” 

“Yeah, some, lunches mostly. We sit in the same spot, he orders the same thing and we find things to say to each other.” The topic of his father was unwelcome for reasons Mac couldn’t define or articulate. The meeting with Jack was supposed to be simple, warm and familiar and Mac didn’t want the complicated emotions surrounding his father to feature in their time together. “It’s fine. We’re not ready to film the MacGyver family Christmas special yet, but we’re fine.” Mac shrugged with an awkward jerk of his shoulders that felt like it would be at home on a sullen fourteen year old. “It’s fine.” 

“So it’s fine then?” Jack turned and looked at Mac with wry smile. “I’ve been thinking, now tell your eyebrows to stand down there, Hoss, I am capable of thinking,” Jack said as he dropped back onto the bench beside Mac, “and I’ve been thinking about Big Mac and I’ve decided that he’s like those Magic Eye picture that were popular a while back.” Jack looked at Mac and Riley’s blank expressions and shook his head in weary acceptance. “So a Magic Eye picture was a poster full of colourful spots and squiggles that looked like someone had done a painting of a migraine and slapped it in a frame. The idea was you stared through the poster, not at it, and after a while you could suddenly see a hidden picture inside the messy blobs of colour. I never bothered with them but I remember people standing in front of the things for fifteen whole minutes then suddenly throwing their hands up and shouting that they could see the Statue of Liberty.” 

The blank stares continued with the lines between Riley’s eyebrows deepening. “There’s a point here, right?” 

“I’m about to get there Miss Impatient, just hang on to your horsies. See, once people had seen the hidden picture they couldn’t understand how other folk couldn’t, since it was there clear as day for them. I think you daddy is like that.” 

Mac stuck his tongue into his cheek as he reviewed Jack’s words. “You’re going to have to give me more than that, man. I don’t understand how my dad is like a blobby picture of a national monument.” 

“He’s not really the poster, he’s like the people looking at the poster. In his mind the things that he did he did for the best, to protect you, and he knows he did them because he loves you, right? So he thinks that because he knows that everyone else should be able to see it too. It’s obvious to him so as far as he can see it should be obvious to everyone. Like Lady Liberty, a rampant tiger or the Pyramids of Giza in amongst the different coloured splotches. He doesn’t get that maybe you might not _get_ that.” 

“You think that he can’t see anyone else’s point of view?” 

“I think he’s logical, brother. His job was dangerous, he left to keep that danger away from you. Now that he’s explained that to you he thinks that you must understand it. I think the cogs in his rational, clockwork brain don’t always tick onto the gear marked ‘other people’s emotional responses to my actions’.” 

Mac looked away from Jack, away from the conversation that had gone in a direction that he hadn’t wanted and stumbled onto things he didn’t want to consider. He looked up at the TV and watched as a contestant on the quiz show that was still on added another letter to the board in front of them. ‘Dustin Hoffman’ he thought absently as his brain deciphered the answer hidden by the missing letters. He thought about the methodical way his father’s tools had always been lined up, how he’d never understood that being asked another question hadn’t helped Mac give an answer he didn’t have, the way he always ordered the same dish for lunch and his look of stunned bewilderment when Mac had resigned and walked out of the War Room all those months ago. 

“I guess.” Jack’s expression was patient and kind when Mac looked back to meet his eye. “That sounds like something he would think.” 

“That’s just my theory.” Jack held his arms out in concession. “You have a lot of time to think when you’re on a stakeout and that occurred to me after four hours of cooling my heels in a parked car one rainy afternoon.” 

“You were thinking about my dad while you were on a stakeout?” 

“I was out of chips. And of course I was thinking about you. I think about all of you. All the time.” 

The conversation meandered on, rambling into safer subjects and more comfortable stories. Wheel of Fortune ended and a procedural crime show started where good looking experts with perfect hair collected clues with Q tips and tweezers and worried about their relationship issues. 

“I thought those two didn’t like each other.” Jack nodded at the screen where a male actor in a lab coat and a female police officer were sharing a tender moment beside a microscope. 

“It’s one of those opposite attracts things.” Riley said. “They’re kindred spirits. What?” She protested when both Mac and Jack looked at her. “My mom likes this show!” 

The machine that was drying Jack’s clothes slowed, the jeans and t shirts flopping gently into a warm, clean heap at the bottom of the drum. 

“So-” Jack announced. “That’s me done here. I should...” he raised his hand, shaking it in a shooing motion. 

“Yeah. We should...you know...too. Exfil is coming early tomorrow.” 

“Right.” 

No one moved. 

Mac focused his gaze on a stain marking the linoleum floor. The brown shape blurred as his eyes grew hot and stung with tears. 

It was time to say goodbye. 

But this wasn’t like in the War Room. He’d been at work back in the Phoenix building. An agent. He’d straightened his spine, a solider at attention, and kept his emotions in check as Jack had said his farewells. He’d shaken Jack’s hand knowing that nothing else he could do would be enough and that Jack would understand that. A hug, a promise, a plea to be careful, an ‘I love you’, none of those things would be enough to convey the depth of everything he was feeling. He couldn’t adequately express ‘you are my family, please be safe, please come back to us, we need you’ with his words or an embrace and Mac wouldn’t give Jack anything less. He deserved better than Mac stumbling through a clumsy declaration. He deserved everything and Mac wouldn’t give him an inadequate gesture. He knew Jack would understand that. 

“Come on then, bring it in.” Jack stood and opened his arms for Riley to step into. She leaned her weight against him and Jack bent his head to speak in a low voice into her ear. 

Mac looked back down at the stain near his feet, blinking against the sting in his eyes. They weren’t in the War Room, he wasn’t Agent MacGyver, this was family time and he was just Mac. A soldier’s discipline wouldn’t put steel in his spine and a lift of cold control to his chin. Jack was leaving again and there was no way to know how long it would be until they next saw him. Mac still didn’t know how to tell Jack how badly he missed him or how much he worried about him. The love, pride and admiration Mac felt for Jack was compressed inside him like a neutron star lodged under his breast bone. Like all his feeling were crushed until they were impossibly dense, pulsing and heavy enough to slice through the Earth’s mantle like a hot knife through butter. He didn’t know how to let any of that out in a way that wouldn’t trigger an implosion that detonated like a supernova. 

“I, um,” Mac started, cleared his throat and tried again, “I...” 

“Bro.” Jack stepped forward and pulled Mac to him and they collided with a jolt of impact that drove an ‘oof’ of breath from both of them. “I get it.” The fingers of Jack’s hand slid into Mac’s hair as he put one hand on the back of Mac’s head, the other curved around his back. “I know.” 

Mac sagged forward into Jack’s embrace. 

“I know you, brother. I know.” 

Heat thrummed behind Mac’s eyes as he curled his fingers into the leather of Jack’s jacket, holding the thick fabric like a touchstone. 

Even as a child Mac hardly every cried. 

Mac remembers his grandpa tsking as he cleaned the wounds Mac had suffered going head first over the handlebars of his bike to land in a bruised and bleeding heap. By the time he’d hobbled home his tears of pain and shock had ceased with only a few clean streaks on his muddy face to show they had ever fallen. “It’s like you have a limit on tears; you let a few go then you pull all the sadness and pain back inside yourself and hold it tight so it can’t escape.“ His grandpa had said. “You know, Angus, sometimes you need to let out more than just a handful, ” his expression furrowed into a look of understanding and pain, his eyes soft and sad, “some pains cut so deep that you need to cry every single tear that’s inside you. There’s nothing wrong with that, its simple math, input verses output. If you don’t let go of everything that needs to get out then you’re going to end up with a backlog that will block your whole system.” But Mac had never managed to break his restraint on weeping. He could only ever let a few tears fall before he breathed in deeply, straightened his back and wiped his eyes. 

He pulled back, needing to rein in his control before it slipped too far from his fingers. He wanted to be strong for Jack, thinking it wasn’t fair to him to let his fear and sadness show. The search for Kovacs was enough weight for Jack to carry on his shoulders without the added burden of Mac’s pain. Mac knew Jack would carry the responsibility of it with him if he let it be seen and he didn’t want him to be distracted when his focus needed to be on being alert and staying alive. 

“Well see you soon, right?” Mac made his voice light and pushing his anguish down and away just like his grandpa had said. There were times when it felt like the well of grief inside him was too large to be contained, as though the sadness compressed like crushed starlight in his heart could engulf him if he ever released his hold on it. “We still owe the others a games night and it’s my turn to be Professor Plum.

“That’s my plan. I love games night and you can be who you like as long as I can be Colonel Mustard.” 

“You’ll keep yourself safe then?” 

“Of course, you know me, I’m Mr Careful Careful.” 

Mac and Riley watched in silence while Jack packed his clean clothes into his bag. The crime fighting couple on the TV were chasing a murderer through a dark, deserted woodland. The scientist found himself cornered by the bad guy pulled a gun that jammed when he fired it, giving the police officer the chance to floor him with a carefully aimed karate chop and read him his rights while fastening her handcuffs around his wrists. 

Mac thought about danger, and luck, and neutron stars and about all the ways it was possible to protect someone. He thought about how standing between peril and the people you love was only one method of defending them, and about how many other ways there were to shield someone from harm. Ways like being strong, standing straight, making jokes and pretending that everything was normal. 

Riley stood close to Mac, her shoulder touching his and her hair brushing against his arm. 

Jack hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “Time for me to go. Things to do, people to find, you know, all that good stuff.” 

Mac gave a weak smile and Riley nodded, neither of them trusting their voices. 

Jack’s lips lifted in a grin. One that was genuine and sad. Full of affection, pride and hope. It was such a _Jack_ expression, his personality shining through in the light in his eyes that Mac’s own eyes stung again. 

Jack straightened and walked away, leaving the laundrette without looking back. 

  


As motel rooms go, Mac thought as he leaned against the pillows behind his back, the one he and Riley were in wasn’t too bad. It was clean and bright, the curtains and sheets were in good condition and the TV worked. He had seen much worse during his time as an agent. The one where he and Jack had actually made a game out of racing the cockroaches that scuttled along the floor had to be the worst. Either that or the one where the Bathroom Incident had occurred. He and Jack had sworn to never mention the Bathroom Incident again but occasionally their eyes would meet over the cracked tiles of a sink and they would both know what the other was thinking. 

Mac tugged off his shoes and stretched out on his bed. He flicked through the TV channels and stopped when he found a nature program. Brightly coloured birds swooped through the wet greens of a jungle canopy while the narrator described their mating habits in deep, soothing tones. The soft sway of trees and the gracefully wheeling birds was gentle and calming and Mac put down the remote and picked up his phone to check for messages when there was knock on the door joining his room to Riley’s. 

“Come in.” 

“Hi.” Riley walked into the room, pushed the door closed behind her and walked forwards a few steps to stand beside Mac’s bed looking as uncertain and uncomfortable as Mac had ever seen her. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her expression was tight and wary. Her stance reminded Mac of how she had been outside the prison walls when Mac had gone to see El Noche for the last time. Brittle, guarded and on edge. Like splintered glass that needed just one more crack to shatter. 

“Are you okay, Riles?” 

Riley’s turned, showing Mac her profile, pressing her lips together and looking over at him from the side of a tear filled eye. She shook her head in tiny jerks. 

“Me too.” 

Mac shifted over slightly on the bed, nodding his head at the space he had created, silently inviting her next to him. Riley dropped down to sit on the mattress beside Mac, flinching as the movement jarred her bruised ribs. She curled her legs up along the bed and leaned into him. Mac shifted again, turning his body so that Riley was tucked against him, her weight against his chest and her head resting against his. They sat silently, watching a murmeration of starlings on the TV fill a cloudless sky with sinuous, twisting shapes, the small bodies of the birds coming together to form beautiful ever changing patterns. Mac tucked his arm around Riley’s back to rest his hand against her hip and she curled towards him, plucking idly at the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve. She was warm and solid against him, and Mac rested against her as he watched the rise and fall of her chest to synchronise their breathing. 

“I kind of hate this.” Riley said, breaking the silence without preamble. “I hate everything about this. I hate that he’s not with us and I hate that we’re not with him. I hate when I know how close he is to danger and I hate when I don’t know where he is. I want to smack him for being so stupid and I want to hug him for being so brave.” Her hair brushed against Mac’s neck as she leaned further into him. “It’s confusing and infuriating and it feels like my heart’s breaking a lot of the time.” 

“Confusing and infuriating. That’s Jack for you.” Mac huffed a soft laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” 

“He’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, right?” What began as a statement ended as a question. Riley’s confidence that Jack would be just fine faltering before her sentence ended. “I mean, he’s Jack.” 

“Of course. Nothing could ever happen to him. He’s Jack.” Mac agreed. His own declaration sounding like a plea for assurance too. Nothing could ever happen to Jack, Mac thought. He was _Jack_. He was tough and savvy and good at what he did, the best. He would be okay because he had to be, because the notion that anything could ever happen to him was unthinkable. 

“Right.” 

A crow flew across the screen while the narrator talked about a study into how intelligent the birds were. The next shot showed tthe crow catching insects by picking up a small twig in its beak and pushing it into a log. 

“It’s like a feathery version of you.” Mac could hear the smile in Riley’s voice. “It has its own little gadget and everything.” 

“That’s okay with me, crows are cool. They can make tools and recognise the faces of people who are kind to them and they remember people that have been cruel.” Mac watched the black bird hop about as it figured out a puzzle that had been set for it by the researchers. “Do you know what the collective noun for crows is?” 

“Isn’t it a murder?” 

“Yeah, it’s a murder of crows. That makes them sound badass, don’t you think?” 

“I wouldn’t mess with them. Not if they’ll remember and figure out a way to get their winged revenge.” Riley and Mac settled against each other, safe, relaxed and supported by the weight of the other, leaning together for familiarity and comfort. “What do you think the collective noun for phoenixes would be?” Riley asked. 

“Some versions of the legend say that there can only be one phoenix at a time but I don’t see why that has to be.” Mac hummed, thinking. “I think a group of phoenixes could be a rising.” 

“A flame.” 

“A burning.” 

“An incandescence.” 

“I like that.” Riley said. “An incandescence, it sounds radiant.” 

Mac considered Bozer and Jack his brothers. They had a bond as strong as any that had been forged by blood and they both _knew_ him, Bozer from them growing up together and Jack from shared adversity. He’d never thought about having a sister until he’d grown to know and love Riley. They shared something Jack and Bozer didn’t understand. He and Riley had both known abandonment. They both knew what it was like to have to square their shoulders and grit their teeth against being crushed by the pain of desertion. Mac knew that Riley understood what it was like to feel like an Other, like the kid who didn’t have what all the other children had, who didn’t feel like they fitted in. The kid who was marked as different because their mom had died, or their dad had left or because they were smart or weird or angry. 

“When we get back,” Mac said tentatively, “would you want to go for pizza and skee ball? Not to replace Jack or anything but to carry on the tradition.” 

Riley looked up at him. “You want to go to Pizza World?” 

“I know going there is your thing with him but I thought we could go together occasionally, I think Jack would like that. Riley blinked at Mac, giving him a hard stare that made him feel as if she was reading his thoughts in his eyes. Mac tried not to squirm under her scrutiny, the offer had been awkward to make but it had suddenly felt important to suggest it. Mac knew that their bond shouldn’t be taken for granted and he wanted to care for and maintain it for Riley, himself, the others and for Jack when he returned. 

“Okay. I need to keep my skee ball skills up.” Riley agreed. “I can’t lose to Jack when he gets back, he brag about it for months. How about we all go and the loser buys the pizza?” 

“Hacking the machine is cheating and isn’t allowed.” 

“Neither is doing something with a toothpick and a plastic fork that tips the machine in your favour.” 

“You have a deal.” Mac and Riley shook hands, grinning, then settled back against each other to watch a family of sparrows huddling together in their nest as they waited out a rain storm. 

Protecting people wasn’t just maintaining cover and jumping through fire Mac thought as Riley breathed out a sighed, it was letting them talk or giving them a chance to be quiet. It was holding someone until they felt ready to be brave again. It was allowing yourself to be held. 

Riley grew so still against Mac that he wondered if she was falling asleep. His own body sank into the mattress beneath him, heavy and languid, and he tightened his hold on Riley as his affection for her thrummed in his chest like an ache. She lazily rubbed a thumb over the back of one of his hands in response. 

Protecting the people you loved was sitting with them while their clothes washed just so you could be with each other and it was watching a documentary about birds together to get through the night. It was, Mac thought, being their family. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos put a smile on my face and a spring in my step so if you feel moved to leave them I would be delighted.
> 
> I've never been able to see the hidden images inside magic eye pictures, I think it might be something to do with my dodgy eyesight, I can't see 3D either, but I've been told that if you stare through them a picture appears. I remember them being a big thing in the 90's for a while but I haven't seen any for ages. 
> 
> I did Google it but couldn’t find the actual collective noun for a group of phoenixes. Maybe there isn’t one. I think the idea that there is only one phoenix at a time is sad. Who would the poor lonely phoenix talk to about emerging from a pile of ash and compare ‘new fire, new me’ tips with? 
> 
> The collective noun for crows is a murder of crows which I think is cool. I enjoy a good collective noun, the collective noun for larks is an exaltation and a group of jackdaws is called a clattering. Isn’t that nice? Crows have been observed making tool and studies have shown that the do remember people’s faces. I love crows. 
> 
> The procedural crime show isn’t meant to be any program in particular, I’ve made it up. However, if there was a show where a sassy, karate chopping female police officer worked with a handsome forensic expert to solve crimes I would watch the ever loving heck out of it.


End file.
